This is where you will find some of my thoughts on my love of writing and my journey in writing my first book.
Also how I live with not only being bipolar, but also with anxiety/panic disorder or live with chronic illness.
I just wanted to allow you a small glimpse into my world.

google analytics

Monday, March 6, 2017

Losing Me.

I started today thinking that I would be writing about the
cathartic feeling of finally telling someone how much they drive me crazy. To tell
them how they make me feel. How when I go to therapy; they are the subject
matter on which I rant about the most.

I was feeling good after finally getting that off my chest.
I was feeling good at not holding it all in anymore, but then as usual life
happened. All that feeling of well-being vanished as if it had never happened.

Today my world shattered into a million jagged-edged pieces.
I am no longer all together, but a million shards held together with some very
iffy glue. Today I lost my grip on the world. I realized that I am trapped in a
black mire. A pitch so deep that I fear I may never have color again. Yet I do
see one color clearly, that of flowing blood as it runs from the cuts, I have
made in my skin to let out all the anguish.
The red of losing my temper so completely that all I want to see is
another bleed. That is my world now. There is nothing else. I am nothing else,
but those scattered pieces trying to desperately cling together. I can’t let
anyone see that there is no more me.

There is no I. There is only the outline of the woman that
once stood, where this shell now stands. In the back of my mind, I wonder if I
will ever be me again. If I can pull all the pieces back together to form me
again. The one who is missing, the real woman, not the imitation standing
before you.

I try to find some link back to me, but the tether has
broken. I am afloat in my sea of insanity.
No help to be found. My anchor jettisoned, I am adrift.

I feel much the
same way as I felt when I lost my dad. That the world was off kilter, not spinning
in the right direction anymore. I feel like I will never be happy again. I feel
like there aren’t enough tears in the world to be cried over my loss. That the
sun has been extinguished. I am on automatic pilot, just going through the
motions of living, while my mind is fractured. Instead of a world filled with a
kaleidoscope of colors, only two remain; red and black.

My voice is silenced, except for the words on this page. My
screams have torn my throat to shreds. They are just pantomimed now. I am that
mime trapped in a box of my own despair. Will I ever break free to be just me.